


¿Què tal?

by nikuy



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Arbie is a robot, F/M, Friendship, Gamer Marcelo!, Gen, Gonza is a giant baby, Humor, M/M, Multi, Romantic Comedy, Serhio is a manslut, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-26
Updated: 2013-05-13
Packaged: 2017-12-06 14:40:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/736817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikuy/pseuds/nikuy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gonzalo, Sergio, Arbie, and Marcelo were high school friends and now they're flatmates. They've always been different from one another, yet none of them could remember when exactly they're not together. They've always been there for one another, to give one another love advice, to lend money to one another, to borrow deodorant from one another; none of them could actually think about living without the other: that's just how close they actually are. </p><p>Meanwhile, their love-lives are all doomed (or mostly non-existent); Gonzalo asks people's MSN as a seduction method, Sergio's weakness lies on a frequent caller on his phone, Arbie just had no idea how to smile, and Marcelo...does he even think about it at all?</p><p>You can actually watch the intro <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aDCdVzW-RYY">here</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "Introduction"

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This work has NO affiliation with any of the Nivea ads nor the real people. This is just a work of fiction and hyperactive imaginations.
> 
> Inspired by [this](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TxM_6KuNxj4&NR=1&feature=endscreen) and [that](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MEaN7mA7PiI), but [this one](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aDCdVzW-RYY) is still the greatest of them all. It makes me think of an opening of some TV shows like Friends or HIMYM. When I saw that video I just couldn't sleep and spent the nights thinking of the possibilities of writing a fic out of that ad. ARGH. PARDON MY ATTEMPT TO BE FUNNY THOUGH I DONT KNOW HOW TO BE FUNNY.
> 
> I really need to write this, you don't understand. If the last porn update was for Sparty feels, this one is for TWD feels. Idk why did I ever think of watching any TV show at all. 
> 
> It. Hurts.

Gonzalo raced his way back to the apartment. It was another cool Friday night, yet he was drenching with sweat. He had his bag bouncing against his hips while recounting the suffering afternoon he had to bear with Mrs. Dominguez, another two hours spent being bullied by a client that day. He felt like to kick the exercise bike she was on as she rattled on the leftover baby fat on his cheeks; if only she knew how much he would like to mention the flabbiness he knew wasn’t there last week on her hips but he kept telling himself how much of a polite young man he was raised into. He was hoping that there would be enough beer to drown himself back in the apartment. And a hot shower. That would be perfect.

 

He opened the door and got inside. Arbie was dunking the basketball in the mini-pitch they set up in the living room right next to the sofa set. He looked flat, as always, as if nothing could entertain him, but whoever lived under this roof knew well it wasn’t true.

 

“Yo, man.” He muttered and the dark haired man only glanced at his direction, his face unchanged, and went back dribbling the ball on the wooden floor.

 

Arbie had this set of an unearthly conduct he set ever since high school; a nod worked just as well as a smile for him, and forth on. It was an advantage for him at work, he once told them, but he and Sergio (since Marcelo spent most of his time beating the world record to finish yet another RPG game somewhere in his lair) knew it was a problem for him most of the time. Back in high school there was this girl he had a crush on and she actually asked him to go to the prom together. What could he say, the pressure got him way too nervous and ended up looking like he was going to murder someone and scared the girl off.

 

Tough high school life you said; they’ve lived it tougher.

 

Gonzalo went straight to the kitchen and got himself a glass of water and downed it in one go. “Where are the others?”

 

“Sergio’s not here yet.” Arbie mumbled his reply, “Marcelo is on his 745,630th hour on Skyrim.”

 

“Something tells me it’s not the total hours compiled out of his four characters.”

 

Arbie shook his head and dunked the ball again.

 

The front door slammed open again and Sergio barged in with his dashing-as-always designer suit and beers in his hand and an LV backpack slung over one of his shoulders, “Hey, guys, here comes the beer!” he waved the cartons around with a huge grin on his face.

 

“It’s about time you show up.” Pipita rushed to him and grabbed the cartons, “You have no idea how I need these.”

 

“You have no idea how many cute girls I have to turn down to make it here.” Sergio shook his head with a silly smile the girls back in high school used to fall for.

 

Gonzalo rolled his eyes. He opened a can while Arbie stopped dribbling around, and walked toward Marcelo’s room to bang on the door before he turned to get to the sofa and sit down. A few minutes later Marcelo came out of his room with a wide grin on his face and FIFA 13 in his hand. “You guys won’t believe how many dragons I slain today.” He excitedly skipped towards the TV and started the PS3.

 

“Let me guess, not as many as the panties you’ve dropped on the floor in your lifetime.” Pipita eyed him in a bored manner as he joined Arbie on the sofa, still cradling the cans of beer.

 

“Do I have to mention that I have a mod for that on GTA?” Marcelo threw him a cheeky look.

 

“Quit the alien shit you’re rambling about, there are muggles around here.” Sergio groaned as he jumped over the sofa and took one controller on the table. “Last week I was the winner and since you guys still can’t provide the beer, it’d be a free takeout tonight.”

 

“Chinese?” Arbie muttered.

 

“I want the Indian food from that restaurant next to the pharmacist.”

 

“There’s a reason why they open the shop next to a pharmacist, you know,” the Argentinean threw him a dirty look, “I lost 10 pounds in three nights after that one time and the process ain’t pretty.”

 

“Maybe this time you could lose your cheeks.” The Sevillian stuck out his tongue and snatched a can from his lap.

 

Gonzalo pressed his palms to his cheeks with a scandalous look, “THERE’S NOTHING WRONG WITH MY CHEEKS, I’M A VERY HEALTHY MAN!”

 

“You’re playing against me!” Marcelo sat down on the floor and grabbed the controller near his foot, “Arbie, call the resto.”

 

Arbie stared at Marcelo helplessly and sighed. It was going to be a long night.

 

*

 

Sergio woke up late and rolled into a fetal position on his bed for a few minutes. He opened his eyes and slowly moved to sit up, staring blankly at the beige curtain on one of the windows. He yawned and finally got up to his feet, walking out of the room lazily for the bathroom. As he went in, he shrieked at the weird, unearthly smell and the sounds that came along with it.

 

“Gonzalo Gerardo Higuain, what the FUCK are you shitting!?” he barked while covering his nose to survive, “THIS IS A FUCKING GENOCIDE!”

 

“YOUR STUPID COCONUT CHUTNEY CALLED FOR THIS!” Gonzalo roared from the toilet booth in agony.

 

“THAT CHUTNEY WAS BRILLIANT, YOUR STOMACH IS WEIRD!”

 

“TELL THAT TO MY SHIT-oh god no-“ he cried and another bomb exploded.

 

“Fuck this shit.” Sergio hissed and ran for his toothbrush and toothpaste with water in his eyes in a lightning speed and left the bathroom. It was fucking awful. He decided to brush his teeth on the sink in the kitchen instead, that bathroom would not be safe for everyone at least for the next 24 hours.

 

From the corner of his eyes, he could see Arbie walking out of his bedroom in an old tee and boxers; his face was sleepy and yet _still_ indifferent. “Yo.” He greeted while applying some paste on his brush.

 

Arbie approached him silently with his own set of toothbrush and toothpaste, “Gonzalo?”

 

“He’s committing a suicide, don’t bother.” Sergio muttered and started brushing his teeth.

 

*

 

Gonzalo spent the next two hours spraying and hanging various odor controllers all over the bathroom under the pressure of the other three. After he was done, he lied down on the sofa in the living room limply. Marcelo was sitting on the floor, playing some Japanese mafia game while chewing endlessly on some gummy worms. The Argentinean was watching intently on how the mafia guy fought some street delinquents with a beer bottle. It was ridiculously unrealistic that one man, fighting against five, won without losing even one point of his health points, especially with the fact Marcelo was controlling that character.

 

“It’s ridiculous.” Gonzalo murmured, “You can’t even fight.”

 

“Excuse you; I’m from _the_ Capoeira country.” Marcelo replied without taking his eyes off the screen.

 

“You don’t know Capoeira.” The older one glared, “I do.”

 

“Yeah, yeah.” The curly haired man waved him off. “Why don’t you just disappear for the night and get that head of yours cleared for good, huh?”

 

“YOU CAN’T JUDGE ME!”

 

Marcelo rolled his eyes, “SERGIO, FIX THIS DOOFUS HERE IMMEDIATELY!”

 

Sergio walked out of his room and the Brazilian coughed from the smell that reeked from the older man from head to toe that his eyes started to water. “Why is it my job to fix him?”

 

“The fuck are you doing in your room, _another_ genocide?!” the curly haired man cried, “The hell are you wearing?? It smells like shit!”

 

“You know nothing about _eau de Toilette_!” the blonde man looked offended.

 

“It sure smells like our toilet!”

 

Sergio threw a dagger at him as he resumed to his game and ignored his existence, then he saw Gonzalo curling up on the sofa. “What’s up, _hermano_? You don’t look good. Aside from the weird stomach you have, of course.” He put a hand on his hips.

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Marcelo, what’s wrong with him?”

 

“He needs to get laid.”

 

Sergio crossed his arms, “Don’t you all?” Gonzalo didn’t budge and finally the Sevillian gave up, “Okay, Gonzalo, _just this once_ you can come with me.”

 

“REALLY??” it was amazing how quick Gonzalo’s mood shifted, his eyes all big and bright as he was  looking up at Sergio.

 

Exasperatedly, Sergio sighed, “Tiana just called and she invited me to this party at the club downtown. Marcelo, you in?”

 

“Nah. Got an online war after dinner.”

 

“Okay. Arbie, you in?”

 

Gonzalo looked at Sergio weirdly, but when he turned to his left and shrieked to find Arbie sitting on the other end of the sofa. “SINCE WHEN YOU’RE HERE!?”

 

“Since ‘Capoeira’.” The dark haired man replied—was it calmly? But he was like that _all_ the time, no one could really tell. “I’m in.”

 

The only blonde in the room scratched the back of his head nervously; he might be able to handle it if it was only Gonzalo, he didn’t expect Arbie to actually confirm his participation. He even _voiced_ it out. “Wow, man, calm your tits.” He muttered and he almost freaked out when he noticed a faint blush on his friend’s cheeks. “Okay, look pretty for tonight, guys. Listen to what I say and I’m sure you won’t be coming home tonight.”

 

*

 

Since it was Sergio, they wouldn’t expect any less than a cool, elegant bar full of pretty ladies and good-looking dudes somewhere in the high-end area, of course. Gonzalo flushed in excitement when Sergio greeted the hostess of the party and introduced them both. He glanced at Arbie, but he looked indifferent. Maybe he was used to this kind of place too, since he works at some insurance company not too far from here, but he _always_ looked like that all the time though, so the Argentinean was not sure. He did not remember seeing Arbie coming home late like Sergio, reeking of ladies’ perfume and tipsy. Anyway, he was relieved that he listened to Sergio and wore the stuffs he told him to wear; a cute lady at the bar was already eyeing him and he couldn’t feel more excited to go over there and give her his best shot.

 

Just as he was about to make his big stride, Sergio grabbed his shoulder and pulled him and Arbie close. “Listen, you dork. DON’T drink too much, act like a gentleman, you’re here to woo a girl.” He hissed at Gonzalo, “Don’t grin too much, don’t leer, don’t call anyone ‘ _bonita_ ’, and, for the love of god, do _not_ ask the girls their MSN.”

 

The younger man scowled at him, “That’s my best line!”

 

“No, it’s not!” Sergio glared harder, “Just play it cool. And Arbie, you…” he turned to the older man and faltered slightly at the best poker face he had ever seen in his entire life. “You…just respond when anyone talks to you, okay? Nod or shake your head at least.” _Any response will do_.

 

Arbie nodded.

 

The Sevillian darted his eyes from his friend to the other one worriedly. He did not actually feel good about this, but they really should try. Gonzalo had been this pathetic ball of muscles and tears for the last few years and it had been way too unbearable lately. He was a damn good gym instructor, one of the best at where he works at, yet he never learnt how his seducing method would only bring himself to his own doom. On the other hand, Arbie’s trauma from the prom incident back in high school hadn’t seem to stop taunting him in his sleeps. The poor guy was simply clueless at how to deal with girls; it was heartbreaking at some points. He sighed as he realized what he was doing.

 

“Okay then. Off you go.”

 

*

 

Gonzalo went to the bar, internally grumbling at how Sergio was being all bitchy about his own seduction method. He could work it all by himself; Sergio was too worked up worrying his ass (which was not fat). It was not as if the insecurity he had back in high school when he was all chubby and way larger than he was today was still taunting him. Sergio was wrong, he did _not_ want to find a mere escapade for the night like the stupid manslut did all the time; he wanted a relationship. Someone who could see him through the layers of fat… _muscles_ and love him for who he was.

 

It was ridiculous how different they were all, yet none of them could walk out of the comfort zone they created for themselves a.k.a the shared apartment. He knew very well that Sergio made more than enough to buy himself a nice apartment around here, Arbie always had some to fix anything broken back at home, Marcelo might not seem like it but he did well on the internet only-god-knows-doing-what. Even _he_ was capable to move out, but he couldn’t see how to live alone without his bestest of friends around yet.

 

He felt like to have another shot of whiskey just to think about how pathetic they were all.

 

“Hey, what’re you having?” a gentle voice with a thick accent caught his attention.

 

Gonzalo turned to his side to find a young man—a very fine young fellow with shaved head and brighter-than-anything-in-the-room smile. The Argentinean almost caught off staring, “Er…whiskey?”

 

The pretty guy turned to the bartender, “Get us two shots of whiskey, please.” The brown-haired man blinked. Did this guy just buy him a drink? The man turned to him again, beaming, “I’m Karim Benzema, what’s your name, _cherie_?”

 

Gonzalo’s face distorted at the annoying petname; that was cheap. “Eh…Sergio Ramos…?”

 

“So Sergio,” Benzema grinned haughtily as Gonzalo reached for his glass, noting that he should pay it himself later no matter how. “Apart from being sexy, what do you do for a living?”

 

It was a real close call, but the Argentinean almost choked on his drink and screamed inwardly at the most horrible secondhand embarrassment he had ever experienced in his life. He turned to look at the slightly taller guy who was smiling innocently as if he hadn’t demolished any healthy mind with the lamest of pick-up-lines there was. “I…uh…I…” he tried hard to remember the name of the company where Sergio works at and gave up halfway, “I’m a…I sell buildings and stuffs…”

 

“Aw, don’t the sprinklers go off when you get into one of them?”

 

“A…haha…ha…” it was excruciating and the man did not seem to be leaving anytime soon as he made himself comfortable on the stool right next to his. What was this guy going to do, tormenting him for the rest of the night until his ears bleed? Eyeing him sideways as he took a sip, actually this Benzema looked fine. He had soft yet manly features and there was something light and relaxing about him, he actually seemed pretty nice. His accent was somewhat alluring, Gonzalo was very well-aware of that accent; he had lived in France before. Funny that they had to meet here.

 

“Sergio, are you always this quiet?”

 

It took him a second to remind himself that he was using his friend’s name for the night, “Not really,” he chuckled lightly, “I was just thinking.”

 

“What about?” the other man leaned in a little closer, “Whatever you have in that pretty head of yours, I’m sure I’m interested to know.” He grinned cutely.

 

Gonzalo eyed him skeptically, “Well…”

 

*

 

It didn’t take Sergio _that_ long until he got himself a good, secluded table in a corner to chat up a real charmer with dark hair called Letitia. It didn’t also take too long until she gave him signals that she was comfortable around him and would like a little intimate touches just to be certain. Sergio already had his palm caressing her thigh for the past ten minutes as they talked in whispers, away from the crowd. He liked doing his maneuver like this; slow and very well estimated. He loved how the pretty girl chuckled and leaned onto his shoulders, eyeing him suggestively as she started running her hand on the inside of his thigh as well. She gave an unspoken consent by flicking up her beautiful amber eyes to meet his as her fingers were inching up higher. Her place just had to be near.

 

He was about to lean in to say something, but then his phone went off in his pocket. The girl made a small scowl but then Sergio cupped her face gently, giving her his best puppy eyes as he said, “I’ll be right back, _querida_. And I’m sorry.”

 

As if entranced, the girl simply smiled and nodded. He carefully got up from his seat to find a less noisy place while fishing out his phone; if it was either Gonzalo, Arbie, or Marcelo, someone would die tonight. He checked on it as he was approaching the empty toilet, his eyes widened upon reading the caller ID. He swiftly picked it up and, as he expected, he heard a small sniff.

 

“Hello?” a timid, croaky voice muttered.

 

Sergio took a deep breath and ran his fingers into his hair, “Hi, Mesut, why do you sound like that?”

 

Mesut sniffed louder on the other line, “A-are you busy at the moment? It took you some time to pick up…”

 

“Not at all, _hermano_ , I have all the time in the world.” The blonde man smiled widely even though Mesut wouldn’t be able to see him, “Now tell me, why do you sound like that?”

 

The other man hiccupped before he sniffed again, “S-Sese…I…I…” his voice was breaking.

 

It was going to be a long night, but Sergio did not really mind as he chose one of the empty stalls to sit in.

 

*

 

Arbie couldn’t understand. He had followed what Sergio told him, but each woman who approached him just walked away after a few minutes while rolling her eyes in annoyance. He tried as hard as he could responding to anything they said, being a good listener that he had always been, but they just did not seem to appreciate it and walked away. It didn’t really matter though since he was indifferent to most of it and decided to spend his drink while tweeting on the empty table he found.

 

 

He sighed and looked around the bar, spotting Gonzalo chatting with this guy in charcoal suit and Sergio on the table in a corner with a gorgeous lady. He watched him getting comfortable with that pretty brunette, somehow he could already foresee what would happen next, but then he saw the younger man getting up from his seat and cupped the girl’s face as he said something before he rushed off the table. It was unexpected. He watched the girl for a few minutes and saw how bored she was getting and his friend was nowhere to be found. He really didn’t expect that.

 

Personally, he never felt like to have any one-night-stand. If Sergio would just listen to him (or if he would just _try_ to explain his thoughts), he’d realize how complicated it was. If he were to do that and one day he should see the girl he encountered with again, he would not be able to live it out and throw himself out of the nearest window. People said that he was stoic; his closest friends only shrugged and said that he was just too damn _shy_. People said that he was a perfectionist; his closest friends only grinned as they knew well he couldn’t move on from his high school sweetheart whose heart he broke into pieces. Up until this moment, he was sure that he did not need to heed “people”; he had his friends around and it was enough.

 

His phone buzzed and he saw a notification on his Twitter.

 

 

He blushed a little. He was like that at least until this Twitter thing happened.

 

*

 

It was near midnight when Sergio walked out of the gents and sighed as he slipped his phone back into his pocket. That Letitia girl must have stormed home or something at least, so he wouldn’t be bitch-slapped for the time being. He noted to himself that he should _never_ come here, _ever_ again. It had been the third time he left a cute girl all alone to be a superhero somewhere else; someplace where he knew he would never matter. He had no idea why, where, or how that Mesut had become his biggest weakness. He had never told any of his closest friends about Mesut before, it would somehow ruin his image, but he really could not help it.

 

He met Mesut Ӧzil a year ago. The man came into his office one day, dressed in last year’s collection of Armani suit that clung awkwardly on his tiny frame, wearing a pair of eyeglasses, longish messy hair, and a pair of big, doe eyes. Even his secretary hid a smile upon looking at the awkward man; such a creature with no sense of fashion and everything was never been seen in Sergio Ramos’ office before. The most disturbing thing for him was when he noticed that the man was wearing a soft, warm fragrance he could not name which made his heart flutter in all of sudden. There was a war inside of him when he realized that he was _attracted_ to this quasi-Nemo.

 

Needless to say, they became good friends. He swore that he had never met anyone so dense like Mesut before. It wasn’t as if he was dumb like Gonzalo; he was simply unaware of other people’s affection and that was where things got handy. He was an accountant working for Sami Khedira, one of Sergio’s closest colleagues, and it turned out that they were dating. Mesut was so damn smitten like a kitten buried in catnips over the handsome entrepreneur. The three of them became quite close, although Mesut started hanging out with him more often because Sami had always been so busy with work and stuffs. Sergio did not need his gang, who practically were depending on him in the romance department, to know just how pathetic he really was.

 

He spotted Arbie first as he walked back into the bar and smiled to see the guy tweeting relentlessly on his phone. “Hey, let’s go back.”

 

Arbie looked up to him and actually looked mildly surprised, “You’re coming home?”

 

“Yeah. I’m not in the mood.” He shrugged and looked around, “I guess Pipita made it, huh?”

 

Arbie only shrugged, “He went home.”

 

“Huh? Then why didn’t you-“

 

“Tweeting.”

 

“Oh.” Of course it made sense.

 

*

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things went wrong-ish and...let's just say Alvaro doesn't need to know any of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do you handle [this](http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=j7xCz811feI)?  
> How do you Pipa?  
> I can't with Pipa?  
> (it's just 3 mins video and it's been an hour and i haven't even finished watching that videos those lame-os are a bunch of goofballs i can't how to rm)

Rolling to one side of his bed, Gonzalo blinked his eyes open sleepily. It was odd that his alarm didn’t go off like it usually does every single morning. It was even more curious that he felt so sleepy even if he was quite sure that it was already past seven, he rarely overslept and he found the fact quite outrageous. It wasn’t as if he had anything to do until afternoon, but waking up late does the worst things to his mood for the rest of the day. He tried moving, he could feel how his body was so exhausted and gave up midways. He decided to wait for ten more minutes before he got up, but then something strange occurred to him.

 

He smelt like…cologne he had never used in his life. He opened his eyes and he found an unfamiliar sight right before him; huge windows, high-end furniture, dark gray-carpeted floor… _where the fuck was he_?

 

Almost too quickly he pushed himself up and groaned silently at the dull pain on his bottom—wait, what was that? And why was he naked? He started freaking out and scrambled off the bed only to stumble down and winced. He jolted as he noticed there was someone else on the bed and he quickly got up on his feet, cheeks burning at realization when he recognized that shaved head and creamy back poking out of the layers of covers.

 

Of course, a few free drinks with lame stranger to chat wouldn’t hurt.

 

“Well, shit…”

 

*

 

Alvaro was already in the kitchen to make himself a nice cup of coffee for today while humming to Rihanna’s Diamond. To have his bedroom located right across Sergio’s did give him more insight in today’s pop music scene, the Sevillian practically listened to it nonstop the first time he downloaded it; in the shower, in his bedroom, in the kitchen—Sergio probably thought that his singing skills covered his lack of English proficiency. Alvaro agreed to some extent, at least until he googled the lyric himself.

 

However, for someone who did not get laid last night, he admitted that he was a little bit too happy this morning. He actually forgot the point of going out with Sergio and Pipita last night and got too worked up with his Twitter. He had never told any of his friends for it would just sound like an immature teenager’s experience everyone basically experienced when they were younger (hence ‘ _hola bonita_ ’ by Gonzalo), but he could barely contain it anymore. He met this gorgeous girl called Carlota on Twitter after his relentless tweets regarding to his own company’s insurance system and sneaky premises. Carlota actually responded and shared her ideas; unlike most women he met, he found her easier to communicate with and they’ve been Twitter friends ever since.

 

He made a small smile and suddenly felt embarrassed that it got him worked up. Last night they had planned to chat after lunch (he actually made a new MSN account solely for this purpose) and he could not wait. Then again, he had to, so maybe after this cup of coffee, he’d head out to buy some bagels for breakfast. It was also too late to join Gonzalo on his morning jog, but maybe he could get a hold on him by phone and tell him to meet up at the usual bakery around the block? He was about to get his phone when the front door suddenly creaked open and Gonzalo peeked in only to find Alvaro and made an unnecessarily surprised look on his face.

 

“Uh…”

 

Alvaro merely blinked, “Done jogging?”

 

“Uh…er…yeah…kinda’…” he mumbled his reply but he didn’t move away from the door.

 

“You’re not usually done this early.”

 

“And you’re not usually talking more than three words, asshole.” The Argentinean bit back.

 

He still felt exhausted and all he wanted to do was to have a hot shower and another hour of a dreamless sleep. He had planned it so well, yet he did not expect Alvaro to wake up this early because…well…he actually forgot that he didn’t even pay attention to what Alvaro was up to last night. He thought the bastard would drink his ass off or something out of depression and pass out until the next evening, but then again it was all in his head. At least, it was Alvaro. Maybe he wouldn’t even remember this incident. He carefully slipped in and quickly headed towards his bedroom before anyone else could see him.

 

Staring at the Argentinean, the older man did not voice it out, but he was wondering why the hell Gonzalo went jogging in his clothes from last night.

 

*

 

Sergio spent an hour in his bedroom before he decided to get up and leave the room. If he had made it last night, he wouldn’t have been here with nothing to do at all. He had neither plan nor any party to come to; turning down the girl from last night would actually ban him from some tonight. He shrugged the thought and decided that it might be the right moment to have some quality time with the boys. He hadn’t really had any time to talk with them, maybe tonight they could play some games Marcelo had on his Playstation. He walked out of his room straight to the living room. The Brazillian was watching some disturbingly loud telenovela on TV while gobbling down a bowl of cereal.

 

“Where are the others?”

 

“Pipita’s not up yet and Alvaro is out for some bagels.” The curly haired man replied, his eyes looked damn tired behind his glasses.

 

“I was thinking maybe we can play FIFA or something tonight…” Sergio sat down next to him and tried to comprehend the show his friend was watching, “…for a good male-bonding…”

 

The younger man snorted, “Isn’t it a ‘male-bonding’ here everyday already?” he chuckled, “I’m a bit surprised you came home last night.”

 

The Sevillian merely shrugged, “Something came up and killed the mood.”

 

“What? Something just ‘came up’ and you suddenly lost the mood?” Marcelo sounded sincerely bewildered that it was hard not to find it offensive on Sergio’s behalf. “ _You_? _The_ sex-predator?”

 

“Don’t make me sound horrible, I merely enjoy good sex, okay?” he glared at the grinning Brazilian.

 

“Damn, I wonder what this ‘something’ is.” Marcelo spooned more cereal and pondered for a mere second, “Or is it ‘someone’?” he threw his gaze at the blonde man. The other man flushed a little and not only was it disgusting to see, it was a tad bit more shocking than Marcelo thought it would be. “Fuck, man, you’re in love.”

 

“Fuck you, Vieira, I’m not.” He kicked his friend’s side as he sent him daggers. _No one_ should ever find out, not even a soul. “There are too many hot people out there, what makes you think I’d sacrifice it all for a pathetic boring boy?!”

 

Marcelo’s eyes turned as wide as saucers this time and nothing could describe his grin better than _devilish_ , “I didn’t say anything about ‘a pathetic boring boy’, did I?” he had to put away his bowl and bully more information out of his friend over here; the guy was terrible at keeping those when he was nervous. Who would’ve known? Not the lot he slept with, obviously. Pathetic dude. “Come on, you never really act like a hopeless romantic damsel in distress—or should I say like Pipita—before, this is great!” he howled over the embarrassment written across his housemate’s terribly red face.

 

“You shall NOT tell any other soul about this!” Sergio gritted his teeth.

 

“Keep acting like that, _hermano_ , and _everyone_ will find out.” The Brazilian cackled and shook his head, “This is so great. Even Pipita would be ashamed that he’s not pathetic enough.”

 

“Fuck you!”

 

*

 

When Monday arrived, Pipita easily forgot about anything that happened during his weekend. The day was unusually busy, more people came to the gym that it took everything off his mind at least until lunchtime when his phone buzzed when he just got his sandwiches from the café downstairs (a café with real good food below a gym, how convenient). It was Sergio. How weird, he thought as he picked it up.

 

“What’s up, man?”

 

“Not me.” Sergio’s voice sounded slightly annoyed and Gonzalo blinked. He was quite sure he hadn’t pissed him off, not in the last one day, no. “I just got a call from some guy. In my office.”

 

“Yeah, so?”

 

“He asked for Sergio Ramos to my secretary and when I picked up, he said stuffs about how great the supposedly _our_ night was, how he loved rocking my _booty_ all night, and how queer it is that I suddenly lost my South-American accent. I told him I have no memory of screwing someone with French accent _that_ thick and, excuse my French, I don’t like random people rocking my fucking ass.” He took a short pause, “Tell me, Gonzalo Gerardo Higuain, what the fuck did you do this time?”

 

Gonzalo froze and went speechless. He did not expect any of this. It couldn’t be. “…are you sure it’s not someone you slept with lately?”

 

“I _don’t_ sleep with anyone who asked me whether not my father’s name is Frank Sinatra to compliment my voice!”

 

Gonzalo flinched and all the memories came back to him in a flash, “Oh crap, it’s him.”

 

“And WHY in the fucking hell did you give him my name and let him fuck you?! Did you get off on guys screwing you while screaming out my name?!”

 

“Oh shit oh shit, tell me you didn’t tell him my real name…”

 

“Short luck, bastard!” Sergio evilly cackled, “You owe my reputation BIG time, asshole. Enjoy your _Crème Soufflé_!”

 

“Fuck you!”

 

Sergio hanged up.

 

Pipita looked around the lobby of the gym anxiously and dashed towards the never-so-friendly ex-member receptionist girl they hired last month, wishing he could get on her right side today. “Hey, Amelia.”

 

The girl looked up from her nail buffer with an annoyed look and rolled her eyes, “Well, if it isn’t _se_ _ñor_ Higuain. How can I help you?”

 

He ignored the sarcasm in her tone, “If there’s anyone who asks for me…c-can you tell them you’ve never heard that name or something? Just…delete my existence of this gym?”

 

“Oh, I don’t know.” She dramatically sighed, “I’m too busy to remember your memo.” She glanced at the sandwiches in Gonzalo’s hand, “Maybe a little munchies won’t hurt.”

 

Gonzalo rolled his eyes, “You just quitted your membership last month, Amelia.”

 

“If you want it so bad, I don’t think you’d mind getting me on shape again. For free.” She faked a cute smile and fluttered her eyelashes only to have the Argentinean groan.

 

“Why do you have to be so fucking mean??”

 

“Munchies or no helping!”

 

“Gonzalo?”

 

The Argentinean gym trainer froze upon hearing his name pronounced by that slightly familiar deep voice with French accent. He hated Sergio so bad. He hated him. He would pee on everything that fucking horse loves. He was too scared to turn around as he noticed Amelia staringing at the guy standing behind him with her predatory leering gaze.

 

“He’s not here…” Amelia said sickeningly sweet, but it seemed that the guy ignored her as Pipita felt a hand on his lower back.

 

“At last I found you!”

 

Gonzalo turned around to see that fucking French guy Karim Benzema beaming at him, his hand never left his waist. It was definitely him, looking a bit more proper than that night they met, but it was him. Helplessly, Gonzalo winced as an effort to smile back.

 

*

 

Sergio was entertaining himself with his evil fantasies on what might happen to Gonzalo at the very moment when suddenly his door flew open and he quickly tried to wipe the stupid grin off his face. However, as he saw the only person he wished to see every day in his life on his doorway, his grin only grew wider at Mesut who smiled at him behind his messy bangs and eyeglasses. He actually looked good in the suit Sergio chose for him last month, the salmon colored shirt looked great on him and the grey suit was as sharp as ever. Sami once joked about how he tried too hard “pimping” his boyfriend to the extent of actually buying him that kind of thing, but his bias didn’t help. Mesut was beautiful and even more with the suit he actually bought him for his fucking birthday.

 

“Hey, am I interrupting you…?” the German gently asked as he brushed back his bangs sloppily.

 

“No, Mes!” he got up from his seat, “Come on in!”

 

Mesut walked in and let the door closes behind him, “I was just thinking to drop by, never really showed you myself wearing this before, yes?” he smiled as he took a seat on the chair in front of his friend’s desk.

 

“You look gorgeous.” Sergio chewed on his lower lip. He hadn’t seen Mesut for some time, he actually could feel his heart galloping upon seeing him alone. “I had no idea you’re here, I would’ve tried to find you.”

 

“I’ll be around for some time.”

 

He cursed inwardly as he couldn’t help but to stretch his lips into an even wider smile. “How long are you going to be here?”

 

The accountant shrugged as he took off his glasses (Sergio nearly wept a little), “Perhaps a few months.” He turned a look at his friend, “Maybe you’ve heard that Sami’s going back to Germany for some time…”

 

“No, I haven’t.” he felt partly guilty at the rising joy in him upon hearing that.

 

“Yeah. And he’s not coming back until, say, next month. The company’s been running well and I’m here just to check the stuffs in-between. You know how much of a control-freak he could be.” He chuckled with a faint blush on his cheeks. Well, if he could choose, Sergio would rather not to hear that.

 

“How about getting some lunch, then?” the Spaniard wriggled his eyebrows playfully, “I know a good place you might like.”

 

“Sure.”

 

Silently, Sergio congratulated himself for attempting the closest thing he could ever get to a date with his object of affection right there for the umpteenth times. Damn, he could almost hear Marcelo’s merciless laughter somewhere in Madrid.

 

*

 

“That Sergio Ramos friend of yours is a quite interesting person.” Karim chattered away, “He didn’t appear to like any of my lines. Quite odd, I say, but he’s cool.”

 

Gonzalo was nibbling on some chips lazily as he listened to his companion for the last ten minutes talking non-stop about random stuffs. Again, he wondered why did he let this French guy to have his ways with him that night, but apart from that night, he actually appeared more like a normal person in the daylight. He wasn’t a man of fashion, but he’d be lying if he said the man didn’t look stunning in his dark blue suit. He actually looked handsome and sharp as if he just came out of one of Sergio’s fashion magazines. Suddenly it all made a little sense as to why he came along with him the other night. Apart from the trashy sense of lines and shitty seduction method, he was quite charming. The restaurant he brought the Argentinean to was pretty classy and he was considerate enough for not making the gym trainer feel out of place for wearing his old Adidas jacket and a pair of track pants by choosing the table outside. Silently he wished he did not just try to advocate his choices on bedding this guy over here, a creep was still a creep. He did, however, track him down. It should be quite creepy.

 

Karim ate his spaghetti slowly and chewed. He had a good table manner, Gonzalo couldn’t possibly miss that. He only paused when he ate, but afterwards, he would start talking again. “So,” he started and Gonzalo fought the urge to roll his eyes, “why didn’t you tell me your name?”

 

The gym trainer blinked. He didn’t actually expect that. Okay, he expected that. “Uh…” he mumbled nervously, “I…I’m quite…awkward to talk with new people…”

 

Karim smiled, “Come on, you’re a gym trainer. You meet more new people in a week than I do.”

 

This time Pipita felt like to disappear for real. “Okay, I’ll be honest with you…” he took a deep sigh, “I just…something like that…I didn’t expect to see you again, so I…didn’t think it’d matter.”

 

“You’re quite right, it doesn’t matter.” Karim thoughtfully nodded, “I still found you, anyway.” He grinned.

 

The Argentinean blushed. Did he just…?

 

“Oh,” he caught something from the corner of his eyes—distraction, exactly what he needed the most. Karim seemed to heed his exclamation and followed to where his eyes were casted, “Talking about Sergio, there he is!”

 

“Which one?”

 

“The one with khaki trench coat, sunglasses, and…and…” Gonzalo muttered as he tried to make sure that he didn’t see thing, but then he could not mistake it, “…holy shit, what is he doing with such a nerdy guy…?”

 

“Oh, I saw your guy.”

 

As the strange couple came closer, Gonzalo was quite sure that they were heading here and even more certain that his too-cool-for-school  Sergio Ramos was, indeed, looking quite intimate with a guy that just didn’t match the standards the Spaniard usually goes for. Sergio was laughing at something the nerdy said before he spotted him on the terrace of the café and looked mildly surprised as he tugged on his friend’s sleeve to run as quick as possible. However, the guy he was with simply laughed and tugged his arm—WHEN DID HE TURN INTO SUCH A SICKENINGLY ADORABLE PDA PRACTITIONER?? Gonzalo might only have went along with Sergio a few times, but the Sevillan had never _ever_ act cute. Sexy (snort) yes, but _never_ cute. He could see it with his own eyes how Sergio tried to talk his guy out of going to the café, but whatever the glasses-guy did, it was effective because he succeeded on dragging the raging stallion easily like a hopeless puppy to the café.

 

“You’re the one who suggested this place,” Gonzalo heard the guy’s soft voice from afar, “and you said they got great German dish. We’re not changing place.”

 

The Argentinean gawked at how Sergio nodded like a puppy and tried to hide his face in shame. Gonzalo would never miss this in his life. “Hey, Sergio! What a coincidence!” he practically yelled right before the glasses-guy opened the door to the café.

 

Mesut blinked in Gonzalo’s direction and turned to his friend, “Is he your friend?”

 

“No, no, I don’t know him, ‘Sergio’ is a pretty common name, you know.”

 

“Come on, Sese, don’t be rude.” Mesut scowled a little and, for the love of god, Sergio just couldn’t resist that face.

 

He gave up and dropped his pretense as he threw a glare at his grinning housemate and—wait, was that the Karim Benzema they talked about before sitting with him? Maybe he could use this as some revenge material, but to bring Mesut over and to _actually_ introduce him to one of the guys…he was torn in-between the possibilities of fucking up his reputation and bullying the hell out of Gonzalo, but Mesut already pushed him towards the gym trainer’s table.

 

“Fancy meeting you here, Pipita…” Sergio mumbled and couldn’t help the urge to tease him a little bit, “A lunch date, huh?”

 

“Oh, aren’t you?” Gonzalo glanced at the boy behind Sergio, “Why don’t you introduce _your_ date since you already know mine?”

 

“Wow, this is a date??” Karim exclaimed.

 

“Oh, no,” Mesut chuckled lightly, “I’m not his date or anything…we’re just friends.”

 

That phrase never hurt Sergio like it did that very moment, he could do nothing about it but to fake a smile and a bitter laugh he knew well his housemate would notice. “Uh. Yeah. Well. Good to see you, we’re just heading inside-“

 

“But the weather out here is good, _amigo_.” Karim provided quite helpfully, “And I’m sorry about the call. Why don’t I get you both something for lunch? We can double-date or something.”

 

“No, we’re not-“

 

“-an item…”

 

“Why haven’t you told me anything?” Gonzalo directed his question to Sergio with his fake sad puppy face, “As you closest friend, I’m deeply hurt.”

 

Sergio would like to slap the Argentinean asshole very much, but then it piqued Mesut’s interest faster than anything, “So you’re Sese’s housemate? Wow, hello,” he offered his hand and Gonzalo shook it with some sort of a frozen smile upon hearing ‘Sese’, “nice to meet you, my name is Mesut Ӧzil. We’re good friends, Sese told me so much about you guys. Which one are you? The diabetic one, the one who tweets a lot? I’m sure you’re not the guy who weeps a lot.” He laughed innocently—he really did not mean to offend, Gonzalo could tell that his Spanish wasn’t good from his weird accent alone. He casted his deadly glare on Sergio who tried to hide himself, but then he turned a smile to Mesut.

 

“Yeah, I don’t weep a lot. Name’s Gonzalo Higuain.” He beamed back at Mesut.

 

“And I’m Karim Benzema, _amigo_.” The French man voluntarily introduced himself.

 

“Oh, hello.” Mesut smiled as he pulled the empty chair next to Gonzalo, “He talked about you guys a lot. He really has interesting friends, but he never invited me over or anything.” He glanced at the Sevillan who wanted just to disappear, but under Mesut’s gaze, he knew better than to do so and took a seat next to Karim.

 

“I wonder why he hasn’t invited you. The guys would love to meet you.” He threw a pretentious look at the sulking Spaniard and grinned. “How long have you been…you know, _knowing_ each other?”

 

“We met a year ago, I think. Or is it more?” the accountant turned at Sergio momentarily, “Yeah, it was my birthday. His company is affiliated with the company where my boyfriend works at.” He grinned and turned to Gonzalo, “We’ve been such great friends ever since. He’s a real sweet guy.”

 

Gonzalo turned a look at Sergio who tried to hide himself behind the menu, “Uh-huh.” He mumbled. “Well, I won’t exactly call him sweet-“

 

“Mes, let’s get our order and leave as soon as possible.” He shoved the menu to the German who looked at him quizzically.

 

“Sure, Sese, but let’s not hurry?” he took the menu.

 

Sergio threw another glare at his housemate before he turned to Karim, “So, you’re the one who called my office, huh?”

 

“Yeah, sorry about that, man.” Karim laughed, “But this cute friend of yours over here gave me your name at the party last weekend. Tried to contact him and I got your office number instead.”

 

“Oh, _that_ party.” Sergio turned at Gonzalo who started blushing like a virgin Mary as he snorted. “Frankly speaking, I don’t recall going back with him.”

 

“Of course you don’t,” Karim grinned, “He went back with me.”

 

“He did _not_ tell me you guys hooked up!”

 

“Sese, what do you want to order?”

 

Gonzalo snickered, “Yeah, _Sese_ , some sweetass German frankfurter perhaps?”

 

The Sevillan nearly threw something at his housemate’s face, but to feel Mesut’s eyes on him, he just couldn’t initiate any form of violence and simply said, “Order anything for me, will you?”

 

“ _Cheri_ , you sure you don’t want to order anything else?” Karim sweetly asked.

 

“Uh…no thanks, Karim, I’m fine.” He averted his gaze only to see Sergio squinting at him and mouthed ‘ _cheri_ ’.

 

There would be a war.

 

*


End file.
